Chapter 16 #2
We all continue eating, the conversation picking back up around me like a gentle current. Then I hear the front door open, heavy boots on the wood floor. I look up.
Cole comes in filthy—head to toe covered in dirt and sweat, shirt clinging to his chest, sleeves rolled up showing those strong forearms streaked with grime.
He looks exhausted. Hot. Sweaty. Gorgeous in that rugged, worked-hard way that makes my thighs clench under the table.
He grabs a plate from the sideboard, piles it high without a word, and drops into the chair next to me.
Pours himself a glass of sweet tea, takes a long drink.
I can’t stop staring. I’m smiling huge—childlike, unstoppable grin.
“Why are you smiling like that?” He chuckles, low and rough, glancing sideways at me.
“I don’t know,” I say, still beaming. “You make me smile.”
He looks up, glances around the table at everyone watching us with barely-hidden smirks, then drops his eyes back to his food. I’m still staring. Can’t help it.
“You’re just gonna stare at me until I show you what it is, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” I say immediately.
He shovels his food in—fast, efficient—then scoots his chair back, downs the rest of his sweet tea in one go.
“Alright everybody, follow me.”
And we all get up one by one, chairs scraping, plates left for later and follow him out to see whatever it is Cole Marshall has been working on all week.
We are walking down the stone and gravel path that’s right outside the guest house backyard, the little rocks shifting under our boots with that satisfying crunch, the evening air still warm from the day but starting to cool at the edges.
As soon as I see it, my eyes light up and I gasp, loud, involuntary, hand flying to my mouth.
Maggie takes off running, shrieking with pure joy.
Luke’s right on her heels, yelling like he’s ten years old again.
The family is so happy, screams, laughter, splashing already echoing and me?
I’m speechless. My feet keep moving on their own, drawn toward it like a magnet.
It’s an in-ground pool, clean lines, perfect rectangle of turquoise water glowing from the inside lights, soft blue-white beams rippling across the bottom like underwater stars.
Wide stairs curve down one side for easy entry, a sturdy ladder in the deep end.
Lounge chairs with thick cushions are already set up, bright floats bobbing lazily, a small table with an umbrella for shade, and a sweet little bench swing dangling from a wooden beam, swaying gently in the breeze.
It’s everything I teased about wanting, turned into something real and beautiful.
Maggie and Luke jump in before Cole can even finish yelling, “It’s going to be a little cold!”
“Feels great!” Luke shouts back, surfacing with a huge grin, water streaming off his hair.
John slaps Cole on the back, hard and proud. “You did good, kid.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Cole says, voice rough but pleased, the corner of his mouth twitching up.
I’m smiling so wide watching everyone, family splashing, teasing, already claiming the space like it’s always been theirs.
Then I glance over, and Cole’s watching me.
Not the chaos, not the water. Just me. Those steady eyes locked on, soft in the glow of the pool lights, like I’m the only thing that matters right now.
“Did you build this for me?”
He shrugs his shoulders… and smiles—small, almost shy, but real.
“Thank you,” I can barely get the words out. I’m so choked up my voice cracks.
This is amazing. Nobody has ever done something so thoughtful and sweet just because I said I wanted it, offhand, teasing, like it was nothing.
My chest aches with it, eyes stinging hot.
I grab his face with both hands, right there in front of everyone, and kiss him, deep, grateful, tasting sweet tea and him.
I pull back just enough to look deep in his eyes and whisper “thank you” again, slow, making sure he really hears me, really feels every ounce of what this means to me.
That’s when he picks me up, strong hands sliding under my thighs and back, lifting me effortless.
“Oh my god, Cole put me down!” I’m squealing and laughing, legs kicking, arms clinging around his neck.
“You need to cool off right?” He says, voice all low tease, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Cole! I swear to god!” I squeal again and woosh! He tosses me straight in.
Water rushes over my head, cool shock flooding every sense, filling my ears with that underwater hush.
I open my eyes, the lighting is beautiful, soft beams dancing across the smooth bottom, bubbles rising around me like tiny stars.
I surface gasping, laughing, shoving wet hair back out of my face, mascara probably running like crazy.
Before I can even pretend to scream at him, he does a massive cannonball right next to me, the splash wave crashing over my head.
I lunge to dunk him, he’s too fast. Grabs my legs under the water, yanks me close, wraps them tight around his waist. My arms loop around his neck on instinct.
We’re pressed together, chest to chest, water dripping from his lashes, faces inches apart.
“My makeup is probably looking pretty scary,” I say, half-laughing, suddenly self-conscious.
“You look beautiful,” he says, simple and sure, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
My heart stutters.
“Are you happy?” he asks, quieter now, thumb brushing my cheek.
“Yes,” I whisper. I bite my lip.
Being wrapped around him like this does something dangerous to me—his body so strong, so solid, hands firm on my ass holding me up, the heat of him cutting through the cool water. I can feel every ridge of muscle, the steady thump of his heart against mine.
He clears his throat, glances over at the others still splashing. “This is Tucker, Jonny, Jake and Bryan. They all helped me build the pool this week.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Layla.”
“Nice to meet you Layla,” Jonny says, and they all nod in unison—friendly, a little sheepish, like they know exactly how huge this is.
“I wanted to get it done before I leave for Texas. That way you’d have somewhere new to write as well as cool off while I’m gone. And this ranch has needed a pool for a very long time. I think we can all agree to that.”
His family agrees and murmurs, nods, smiles everywhere.
We all hang out there for a while, talking, drinking from the cooler, floating on loungers, laughter echoing under the stars, until one by one everyone drifts inside.
Goodnights called, doors clicking shut. Until it’s just me and Cole.
Sitting on the stairs in the pool, water lapping at our waists, legs dangling in the glow.
I pounce on him as soon as we are alone.
I’m on him. I’ve been holding onto this sexual tension all night, every stolen glance, every brush of his wet hand while we were surrounded by people.
Soaked from head to toe, I’m kissing him hard, hungry.
He’s sitting on the top stairs so just his legs are in the water.
I straddle him, hands fisting his wet shirt.
“Wanna break the pool in?” I whisper against his mouth, voice breathy.
“You know I do,” he groans, low and rough, hands already sliding up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through my soaked shirt. “Been thinkin’ about gettin’ my hands on you like this all damn night.”
Then he’s taking my shirt off, peeling the clinging fabric away slowly, like he’s savoring it, then my bra, nipples pebbling instantly in the night air. He groans deep in his throat, eyes darkening as he looks at me.
“Fuck, Layla… look at you.” His voice is gravel, hands cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until I arch into him.
“These curves of yours—they drive me fuckin’ wild. Every time you walk by in those little shorts, swayin’ your hips… you have no idea what you do to me.”
Shorts come off easy after that, sliding down my thighs into the water. His hand slips down into my panties, fingers finding my clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make me gasp. Not one but two of his fingers slide into me, thick, curling just right and I let out a loud moan.
He covers my mouth with his palm. “Quiet now,” he says, voice low command, eyes locked on mine. “Don’t want the whole house hearin’ how wet you are for me.”
He fingers me harder, perfect motions, thumb rubbing my clit in tight circles while his fingers stroke deep inside, hitting that spot over and over until my thighs shake.
“You feel that?” he growls against my ear, free hand gripping my hip, holding me exactly where he wants me.
“That’s all for me. This tight little pussy clenchin’ around my fingers like it never wants to let go.
You know what you do to me, Layla? You make me so hard I can barely think straight.
Been achin’ for this all night, watchin’ you in those shorts, laughin’, gettin’ wet just from lookin’ at me. ”
“I want you,” I say, breathless, hips rocking against his hand. “I want to make you feel good.” My hand reaches down, grabbing his length through his pants, he’s rock-hard, throbbing, straining against the fabric.
“No,” he grabs my wrist, gentle but firm, pinning it behind my back with one hand while the other keeps working me.
“This is just for you tonight. I want to watch you come apart on my fingers, want to feel you soak my hand, hear you try to stay quiet while you fall apart for me. You’re gonna come hard, Layla. Right here. Right now.”
His voice drops lower, commanding. “Look at me. Eyes on mine when you come. Don’t you dare close ‘em.”
Oh my god. This man can’t get any sexier, can he? He’s hard as a rock, throbbing against my thigh, but he only wants me to cum. Just me.
And I do, I cum so hard, back arching, thighs clamping around his hand, a choked cry muffled against his shoulder as waves crash through me. My whole body shakes, pulsing around his fingers, soaking them just like he wanted.